Listen
by whovianpower
Summary: Melinda dealt with so much in silence that year, and we know her story. But what did it look like from the outside? A short rewrite of Speak from Rachel's perspective. (Rated T for mention of Melinda's assault)
**_This is just a story I wrote for school when we were reading Speak about a year ago. I really enjoyed writing it and never forgot about it, so I thought I'd just post it since I haven't really posted FanFiction in a while. Enjoy._**

SPOTTING

I see her.

She's standing alone in the middle of the aisle, staring at the rows and rows of slowly-filling seats in front of her. Her back is turned, but I know it's her. How can I not know her from behind? Her brown hair hangs limply over her shoulder, and her new school uniform is dirty, even though she probably has never worn it before. Her hands hang limply by her side, and her head is down slightly. Melinda looks pathetic, but I don't feel bad for her.

The sight of her fills me with anger and disgust. The nerve of her, even just showing up to school.

The small crowd of students who are around me follow my gaze to Melinda. A couple of them smirk at her, and one boy says something rude. A new girl, Becca, looks confused.

"Who's that?"

"Melinda," I answer after a moment. "She called the cops at the end-of-summer party last weekend."

REMEMBERING

I remember the night clearly. Cool outside, hot inside. So many people dancing around and having a good time. There were drinks, and Melinda had some. She started hanging out with an older guy, Andy Evans. He's cute.

The next thing I knew, everything broke into havoc. Somebody screamed something about the police coming, and my eyes had widened.

"What's going on?" I asked a boy who was hurrying towards the door. He didn't pause, just yelled over his shoulder, "Your stupid friend called the cops! This is all Melinda's fault!" He was out the door and out of sight before I could say anything else.

I couldn't believe it at first. Melinda couldn't have done that. It had to be a mistake. Yet, I still found her in the kitchen, by the phone dangling over the side of the counter. Over the noise, I could still hear the operator telling whoever was listening that help was on the way. My heart leapt into my throat.

"Melinda," I whispered. Her head shot up, and she stared right at me. "What did you do?"

She put her hands up. "Rachel…" She took a step towards me, but I shoved her back. She nearly crashed into a teenager who was running towards the back door.

"What did you do?" I screamed it this time. Melinda's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and I knew she didn't have an answer. I was too angry to care. "You idiot!"

At that moment, one of the other girls of our group grabbed my and and pulled me in the opposite direction. We went out the front door, and she rushed for the car. I scanned the crowd for Melinda, and I saw her running to the trees off to the side. She disappeared. Cops pulled in from all directions, and I barely made it out of there without getting in trouble.

Several people were arrested, and it was all Melinda's fault. The story spread, and now everyone hates her.

HATING

That was a bad night, and I really don't like thinking about it.

"We don't like her," I clarify, turning to Becca. Becca, being the new and desperate to fit in girl she is, nodded quickly.

"No we don't."

I smile, satisfied. I look back at Melinda, who is still standing in the aisle a few feet ahead of her. A boy from the grade above us pushes past her and she nearly falls down. Nobody else says anything to her.

I turn to a girl named Rhoda and smirk. "What did she do? Crawl out of the garbage this morning?" Rhoda grins, as well as the rest of the group.

"My g-d, she looks so stupid," says a guy, Sam.

"How can she stand herself?" asks Becca.

Rhoda makes a face, and waves her hand in front of her nose. "How can she stand her smell?"

We all burst out laughing, our sound reaching Melinda. She slowly turns around, and I see her face. She chews on her lip, and a see it bleeding a little bit. She has bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept well in a while. Ugly. Good for her, I think. She deserves it.

She looks at me. I don't know what she wants from me, but I give her what I think.

'I hate you,' I mouth. And I do. Her face falls even further, if that were possible, but I don't care. She asked for it by calling the cops. She deserves whatever she gets.

Melinda hangs her head and turns around, quickly walking away and fading into the crowd of students swarming to get to their seats. I lose sight of her, but right at that moment, an announcement is made for us to get to our seats. One of the people around me grab my arm and pull me towards the back row. I sit down right as the lights dim and orientation begins.

PASSING TIME

I see Melinda a few times throughout the year. She's mostly alone now, but she hung out with this new girl named Heather, but I guess Heather had the sense to ditch her while she still had a good reputation.

At the beginning of the year, I was so angry with Melinda that I couldn't think. But as time passed, I barely gave her a thought. When I passed her in the halls, I barely acknowledged her existence. She deserves what she gets.

She is in a few classes with me, but she never makes an attempt to speak to me, not after that first day. Melinda never really talks to anyone really. It takes me a while to notice that. She barely spoke to Heather, despite hanging out with her a lot, but after Heather left she never seems open her mouth.

One day in English class, her lip is bleeding. I am the only one who noticed it. Melinda may not have noticed it, because she keeps chewing on the cut. I steal glances over my shoulder, a bit worried she would see me looking, but she doesn't look up at the teacher once. She doesn't see me. I don't want her to see me because I'm not supposed to care about her. I'm supposed to be mad at her, and hate her for what happened at the party.

But the thing is, I realize, focusing on the teacher whose hair always covers her face. I don't anymore.

THE OLDER GUY

Andy Evans.

He's taken an interest in me, and it's so amazing.

I don't know when he started liking me, or when he even noticed me, but one day, he came up to me and asked me out. He's two years older than me. Girls drool over him in all grades. Why does he bother talking to me?

Before I know it, we're going out. We're seeing movies, going on dates, out to dinner. He's amazing. Sweet. Cute.

He's the kind of thing I would always talk about with Melinda. Before the party anyway. She was so much fun to talk to about boys.

No. She's an outcast. She's not worth my time. Melinda used to be my friend, but isn't anymore. I shouldn't be missing her.

Why am I missing her?

WARNING

Andy invited me to prom! He just did out of the blue. I knew we were going out, but I didn't think we would actually get as far as prom. He's just too cute and amazing to stay bothered with me. It's just amazing!

Prom isn't something girls my age usually go to, but he invited me. I can't say no, and I don't want to. Andy is the perfect guy. I hope I stay with him forever.

I'm thinking about all this as I'm walking down the hallway towards my locker. No, skipping. That's how happy I am. Prom, I think. Who knew?

I twisted the lock in the combination order, and it pops open. A piece of paper tumbles out, and I barely catch it before it hits the ground. My face lights up as my thumb traces the fold. It might be from Andy.

However, when I unfold it, I find that it isn't from Andy-It's about Andy. The handwriting is sloppy, as if whoever wrote this wrote this in a hurry. I didn't recognize it.

 _Andy Evans will use you,_ I read. I pause there, my eyebrows wrinkling together in confusion. I look over my shoulder to see if someone is watching me, if someone is trying to see if I fall for their joke. There is nobody, just the normal flow of students hurrying to lunch. I look back at the paper and read it all the way through.

 _Andy Evans will use you. He is not what he pretends to be. I heard he attacked a ninth-grader. Be very, very careful. -A friend. P.S. Tell Greta-Ingrid, too."_

I know right away that this isn't a joke from Andy. He would never do something like this. Greta-Ingrid is a Swedish exchange student, and I wonder for a moment if it was her who did this. But she barely spoke English, and her handwriting is loopy, not like this.

I look around again to see if the writer was here. I didn't think so. So who wrote this?

WRITING

The note slipped my mind. There was nothing about Andy that made me think that anything on the note was true. He's too perfect for any of that to be true. I decide it's just a jealous girl who wants me to break up with Andy.

Greta-Ingrid went back to Sweden recently, and I hope to become an exchange student myself. That's the only reason I'm in the library today.

Melinda sits down next to me. I jump slightly, but I don't let it show. Her chair scratches the ground loudly as she pushes her seat in, and the librarian glares.

I focus on my notes, which I have to admit aren't that good. I'm just copying from the book, but that's what it takes to go on the trip.

Melinda is silent in the seat next to me at first before she says, "Hey." I was surprised to hear her speak after so long, but I didn't show it. I just mumbled. Not a 'hello,' not a 'get the heck out of my face!' Just a 'hmm.'

Melinda clears her throat. "Homework?" she asks, indicating towards my notes. I shrug, tapping my pencil on the side of the table.

"Kind of," I murmur. "I'm going to France this summer with the International Club. We have to do a report to prove we're serious."

"That's great," Melinda says. "I mean, you've always talked about travelling, ever since we were kids." She pauses for a moment. "Remember when we were in fourth grade and we read _Heidi_ and we tried to melt cheese in your fireplace?"

A memory burst into my mind, and I start laughing. I don't mean to, and I don't want to, but I do. And it surprises me that I don't get angry at myself for laughing with her. I guess it wasn't funny, but I was too nervous about it to care.

We shut up when the librarian points at us warningly. Neither of us speak for a moment, and I wonder if this is the end of the conversation. It isn't.

"So you're really going out with him. With Andy," Melinda says. "I heard about the prom." I look up at her and grin, the feeling I got when I used to hang out with her coming back.

"He's great," I say, excited. "He is just so awesome, and gorgeous, and yummy." I stop, remembering who I'm talking to, remembering what she did. But if I'm honest with myself, I just can't stand being mad at her anymore. I just don't want to admit it to myself.

"What are you going to do when he goes to college?"

That question makes me sad. "I can't think about that," I tell her. "It hurts too much. He said he was going to get his parents to let him transfer back here. He could go to La Salle or Syracuse. I'll wait for him."

"You've been going out for what, like, what-two weeks? Three?"

She dares. She dares to say something like that.

I slam my book shut and glare at her. "What do you want anyway?" I snap. Melinda opens her mouth to respond when the librarian warned us to either be quiet or go to the principal's office. We both nod quickly, and she leaves us alone.

Melinda takes her notebook out and borrows my pencil. She writes quickly and passes it to me.

 _It's nice to talk to you again. I'm sorry we couldn't be friends this year._

At first I am going to write something rude back to her, but I decide in a heartbeat that I just can't be angry anymore. So I take the pencil, and I write back, _Yeah, I know._ I pause for a moment and write back, _So, who do you like?_

Melinda takes the book back. I look at the paper as she writes. _No one, really. My lab partner is kinda nice, but like a friend- friend, not a boyfriend or anything._

I nod. I get that, but I luckily don't have to deal with that anymore.

Melinda doesn't pass the book back to me right away, and I don't ask for it back. She must have something to say. After a moment, she writes, _are you still mad at me?_

She passes the book back, and I draw a lightning bolt at the corner of the page, thinking for a moment. I decide it takes to much energy to hate her, since I wish she were my friend again.

 _No, I guess not,_ I write. _It was a long time ago._ I doodle for a moment. _The party was a little wild, but it was dumb to call the cops. We could have just left._ I slide the book over to her, and she doodles as well.

It feels like forever before she starts writing again. And I'm not prepared for what she writes.

 _I didn't call the cops to break up the party. I called them because some guy raped me. Under the trees. I didn't know what to do. I was stupid and drunk and I didn't know what was happening and he raped me. When the police came, everyone was screaming and I was just too scared, so I cut through some back yards and walked home._

I already know what it says when she slides it back to me. I'm too shocked to respond. I reread it a few times to make sure I understood it properly before I grab the pencil and scribble, _Oh my God, I am so sorry. Why didn't you tell me?_

 _I couldn't tell anybody,_ she responds.

 _Does your mom know?_ Melinda reads it and shakes her head. She tears up a bit, but tries to hide it. I scribble a few more worried questions and she tells me she's fine. Then I ask who did it, and she responds.

 _Andy Evans._

It takes me half a second to process that statement. That lie. Anger fills me and I jump out of my seat, grabbing my books.

"Liar!" Melinda shrinks back slightly as I piece together all of this. "I can't believe you. You're jealous. You're a twisted little freak and you're jealous that I'm popular and I'm going to the prom and so you lie to me like this." Something else comes to mind. "And you sent me that note, didn't you? You are so sick."

I turn to tell the librarian I feel sick. And I do. As I stomp out, leaving Melinda alone at the table, I think how sick Melinda is. How pathetic. Any forgiveness I had for her before, it's certainly gone now.

Pathetic.

DOUBT

Andy takes me out to a movie the next day. As soon as I see him, the excitement that usually bubbles up in my stomach is absent. He puts his arm around me, and I find myself a bit worried, which just irritates me. As Andy drives me to the theater, I can't help wondering. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and I wonder. Then I feel sick at myself. Idiot, I think. I can't let Melinda's lies do this to me.

They were lies, right?

Andy pulls into the parking lot and gets out of the car. He calls for me.

"Rachelle, you coming?"

For the first time, the sound of my name coming from his mouth sickens me. I can't help it, and I hate it. But I don't get out of the car. I hear Andy sigh, and he gets back in the drivers seat.

"Melinda told me you hurt her," I tell him. He looks surprised. "She told me you… raped her. It's not true is it?"

Andy has an expression that makes my stomach do a backflip, and he doesn't hide it fast enough. Guilt.

"It isn't true, is it?" I repeat.

Andy rolls his eyes. "You're not really listening to that freak, are you?" He chuckled. "She's just a loser."

His words may say this, but his eyes say differently. And I know. My mouth drops open, and I struggle with the car door. He grabs my wrist, but I elbow him in the face and get out of the car.

"It's true!" I half-screamed.

"Rachelle, come on."

"Don't say my name," I spit. "We're done." I rush off before he can say anything and take a cab home. I stay home the next day.

REALIZATION

Ivy calls me. She calls sounding all rushed and worried. She spills out a story about what Andy did to Melinda at the party, and I don't tell her I already know. Then she tells me that Andy attacked her earlier after everybody left. He attacked her in the janitor's closet, and who knows what would have happened if the lacrosse team hadn't found them.

My stomach dropped three feet, my heart pounding. Ivy tells me Melinda's okay, and some of the anxiety fades away. But my anger doesn't.

Andy hurt her. Melinda tried to tell me. I called her a liar. Andy tried again.

I went out with that monster.

I give Ivy a rushed goodbye and call Melinda. I get the answering machine, and my words stumble over each other as I tell her how sorry I am. I ask her to call me before hanging up. Doubt fills my mind. She might not. If she doesn't I would blame her.

REGRET

She does, and I'm relieved. The conversation was short, and she doesn't tell me what actually happened that night. Melinda says she needs to go, and I let her.

I see her the next day at school, and everybody knows the story. Everybody knows what happened, one way or the other. I would have gone and killed Andy, if I could find him. He's been expelled. A girl told me he's in jail.

Good for him. He deserves it.

I see Melinda in the hallway, and everybody who passes her asks her if she's okay. She just nods to me when I ask. I don't think she's ready to talk yet. I wouldn't be.

I wonder if she'll ever really forgive me. I wouldn't. I guess I'll know when she's ready.


End file.
